I believe in the devil, I know there's a hell.
I'm reminded of its existence when I hear the school bell.
I don't hate it because of the loud ring at 7 AM
or the early time we go to bed.
It's not because of all the work we take home,
parents think they understand but they just don't.
I'll tell you a couple stories, there's so many to be told.
Of many different people,
these stories will never get old.
There was a girl, she was in her elementary school days.
The hallways echoed with words of hate.
Your lips are too small,
your hair too big,
you're too ugly,
your eyebrows too thick.
She's acts like she doesn't care,and well she didn't care at all.
Popular girls were stupid,
boys had cooties.
She was okay for now and if she wasn't well, life gets better, and you just need to wait.
She waited,
Days, weeks, months, YEARS.
Now she's finally in grade 12, soon enough she'll graduate from hell. She wishes she was more like those girls, because well, boys don't have cooties anymore.
Not enough makeup - ugly.
Too much makeup- attention whore.
Well the other girls did the second option so I guess that was the right choice.
Despite how hard she tries, she'll never be good enough.
Despite her obvious insecurities people still have the audacity to point them out to her.
Boys might not have cooties ,but there's a cold heart in every girl.
Later on she goes home and stares at herself in the mirror, analyzing every flaw.
All by herself she leaves scars like tiger claws.
Nobody realized, not just yet.
She's called an attention seeker, gets all the attention she can find.
Even though she's an open book ,
this is the one thing she tried to hide. Maybe it helps her forget about the people who are so mean.
Maybe she likes the sight, like bright red cherries on top of whipped cream.
Maybe she bleeds because it reminds her she's alive,
Maybe that release of endorphins helps her feel revived.
Maybe even though she breathes, she spends every second wishing she would die, because she wants to end her pain, not just her life.
Because now her parents regret having her, the girls don't ever talk to her, and that special boy she tried to look special for never knew she existed and now that he did she was just some crazy girl that no one wanted to be friends with.
As much as they all disliked her, no one hated her as much as she hated herself.
No one.
Once upon a time there was a boy,
